


entwined, we dream

by ipomea



Category: Death Stranding (Video Games)
Genre: Dreamsharing, Frottage, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, OR IS IT, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Trans Higgs Monaghan, Trans Male Character, Tribbing, Vaginal Fingering, Wet Dream, You decide..., trans Sam Porter Bridges
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:46:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29321127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ipomea/pseuds/ipomea
Summary: After taking on countless deliveries, all Sam needs is a good night's sleep. Only one man could get in the way of that.
Relationships: Sam Porter Bridges/Higgs Monaghan
Comments: 1
Kudos: 26





	entwined, we dream

**Author's Note:**

> 100% self-indulgence time. as the tags state, both characters are trans (FTM), so 'cock' refers explicitly to a t-dick, but I didn't want to use that in its entirety, lol.
> 
> Title's from the Deftones' 'Rosemary.' Beta'd by catafalque as usual (i love you bestie)

After a long day of hauling cargo from one distro centre to another, all Sam really wants to do is sleep. How many hours it's been since the last time, he doesn't know. That's what the bottomless energy drinks are for, to keep him afloat on aching feet and raw shoulders. Through MULE camps and BT territory, over mountains and rivers, or waves of tar while catchers conjured by Higgs bound after him.

The breaks are few and far between, so if he falls asleep before he's even showered, he isn't surprised. As soon as he reaches the private room, he just manages to get out of his porter suit and slip into loungewear before collapsing into a deep sleep.

Sam finds himself on his Beach, his exposed body laid over dark sand. He takes the time to relax, letting the soft sound of the waves hitting the shore course through his ears. What interrupts his respite is granules of sand crunching over his shoulder—someone sinking down behind him. He can't recall hearing any footsteps before, so whoever this is has been standing over his naked body for some time. And when he turns over, it's Higgs fucking Monaghan. Of _course_ it would be.

The other man sits with his knees hugged to his chest, eyes fixed on the sea. He's not wearing his usual get-up; a tight black shirt over tapered sweatpants take the place of his regular garments. As expected, dark makeup lines his eyelids, running slightly down his cheek. Nothing is obscuring his face now, no mask, no hood, or no cap pulled over his eyes to hide him. Strangely, he almost looks _good_ with his features bared to the elements—like Sam could see him being a normal person in some other lifetime.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Sam grouses with his back turned again.

"Stopped in for a visit," Higgs states calmly. "Or rather, you called me here. Unconsciously."

"I called _you?"_ Sam scoffs. "What the fuck would I do that for?

"Hey, this is _your_ dream," Higgs levels defensively. "And there are no real-world consequences here. You can do whatever you like—hell, you can even kill me, if that's what you want."

Sam turns over to face Higgs' caustic grin. The glimmer in his eyes shows that he's not kidding. If anything, he seems excited by the idea of being snuffed out.

"So, what kind of dream do you want this to be?" he chuckles.

No words come out of Sam's mouth, but he has a feeling he's come to a decision. There's a short sliver of time where Sam's disconnected from himself, from all logic and reason. When he lapses back in, Higgs' back is pressed down in the sand, and Sam only realises that it's his own doing when he feels the bump of Higgs' wrist in his hand. Slight panic shoots up Sam's spine, leaving him tense and frozen in place.

"Got cold feet all of a sudden?" Higgs drawls, the arch of his brow disturbing the symbols etched there. "Go on Sammy-boy, we both want the same thing."

Sam's free hand runs down the line of Higgs' body, down his chest, and to the waistband of his pants. He diverts his gaze upward, searching for the go-ahead. Higgs just nods, smiling satisfied from ear to ear. The smug bastard.

What Sam finds beyond the elastic isn't too surprising. It's the same anatomy as himself, but he doesn't know if that's what he expected. His fingers push through pubic hair, over the bump of an already engorged cock, and down between his swollen lips. Higgs' head presses down into the sand, eyes shut tight with his mouth agape. The little shit's already soaking wet, like he was expecting this to happen— _goddamn._ He probably was.

"You wanna let my hand go so I can return the favour?" Higgs swipes his tongue over his lips. "Or do you just wanna fingerfuck me? Up to you, this _is_ your dream after all."

Reluctantly, Sam releases one of the terrorist's arms from his grip. Higgs' hand slides down Sam's chest, stopping to linger at the cross shaped on his stomach before pressing the pad of his middle finger to Sam's own cock—nudging it to life and forcing it awake with only a slight back and forth motion. It doesn't take much for Sam to lose the rhythm of his fingers as Higgs works up against his frenulum, pulling the hood back and making his ministrations even more direct.

There's something edging at the back of Sam's mind, telling him this isn't enough. That he needs more than fingers, for both of them. He removes his finger, stopping for a moment to look at just how wet his hand is. Higgs lifts his legs just as soon as Sam's fingers start pulling his pants down further, like he can't bear to have them in the way anymore.

With Higgs' legs pressed up against his shoulders, Sam nudges inside his dripping cunt as far as he can, and it feels so good that he can't stifle the raw groan that comes out of his throat. _Why the fuck does it have to be him?_ Sam wonders, but then again, he isn't sure it would feel this way with anyone else. Hatred is only a wire cross from lust, and he'd be lying to himself if he hadn't thought about doing something like this before. He spreads Higgs out with one thumb, the other rolling against the other man's cock, eliciting a sinful moan from below.

Sam finally looks up to meet Higgs' eyes, watching the way the man bats his eyelashes and bites down on his lip hard. There's a second where Sam wonders what it'd be like to dip down and kiss him, taking away the tug at the corner of his mouth. It feels like it would be too far, even in a dream, so he settles for picking up the roll of his hips instead. Like it's supposed to be a competition, Higgs starts grinding against Sam even harder, and Sam has to pull away quickly to make sure he doesn't come first.

"Why'd you stop?" Higgs yowls, hips jutting upwards to make up for lost sensation. _"Sam—_ come the _fuck_ on," he whines, exasperated and edged with frustration.

"Shut up," Sam mutters. "Here, is this what you fucking want?"

He sinks down on his knees, leaning down to take Higgs in his mouth. There's no room for softness here, just the hollowing of his cheeks and two fingers forcing their way inside, he could probably slip in a third and fourth, but he doesn't. It's no surprise that Higgs is already inches away from the edge, with the way he's tensing up and letting out the most ragged shriek of a moan Sam's ever heard. Higgs' bony fingers slip into Sam's hair, grasping for anything to hold onto as he ruts up against Sam's jaw.

Irritating, sure, but that can be forgiven for now.

It feels like a small victory when Higgs' thighs hug either side of Sam's head, furling up as he shudders and trembles in Sam's mouth. Then he finally shuts up, all the mewls and groans replaced by quick choking breaths as he comes between Sam's lips and around his fingers. Higgs' legs drop motionless in the sand, and Sam takes the temporary state of weakness to look over the other man's disheveled state. The rise and fall of Higgs' chest is stuttered and fast, completely thrown by his own orgasm. Black falls in streaks down his reddened cheeks, and Sam can't help the satisfied grin that creeps on his lips.

"Hardly fair," Higgs mutters between breaths. "But you know how to suck a cock, I'll give you that."

Higgs' face radiates shame, well aware that he's lost whatever game they're playing. He tries to correct it once his eyes open, but Sam's already seen it, relishing every second with heat rushing straight down between his legs. He gets himself between Higgs' thighs again, hand wrapping over one of them and finding just how slender they are. Higgs puts up a tough front, but like this, he has no control. Sam's got more strength and weight over him than initially suspected.

This time Sam slots into him with more force, working into a violent grind against Higgs, their parts pressed flush together with mingling slick.

Like a switch has been flicked, Higgs' voice comes out high and foreign in his throat, _"Ah,_ give me a fuckin' break, I just came!"

In lieu of an answer, Sam all but stops, rocking up faster than before. He imagines himself caught up in the waves of a vast ocean, the ebb and flow of the tide forcing the thrust of his hips along with it. It's not long until the waves carry him down into a whirlpool of sensation. He can feel the white-hot heat in his belly, causing him to pick up speed as he chases the high. The only thing cutting in through his ears are Higgs' sobs of pleasure underneath him, egging him on to continue until he can make them stop.

This time the sounds don't cease. Higgs writhes and bucks up against Sam's pelvis, uttering two incomprehensible syllables.

 _'Fuck you'_ or _'love you,'_ Sam isn't sure which would disturb him more. But with Higgs contracting around him, Sam does the only thing he can. He comes as a deep groan pushes through gravelly in his throat, and he can feel himself pulse inside the other man. There's no afterglow or conversation to be had afterward, just the field of Sam's vision going dark as if he's been swallowed whole by a riptide.

The first thing Sam does when he wakes is shove his hand down his pants. He's twitching like he'd just jerked off, and the words ' _no real-world consequences'_ echo in his mind. No consequences, but he can come in a dream and come in real life at the same time. _Just great,_ he thinks, slapping his sweat-soaked forehead with the other hand. Why wouldn't his first wet dream in years be about the leader of a domestic terror group?

There's nothing left to do but get into the shower, shed his sweaty clothes and ruined briefs, and wonder how much of it was _real._


End file.
